


Fairy

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mostly Pwp, Wing Kink, and Cas, dean has wings too, it was witches man, those fucking witches, wings for everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t really give a shit what Cas would or would not think about these wings - Dean refuses to call them his wings. See the thing is, he gives a shit. And he does not need Cas with his big badass black angel wings to come down and help Dean with his little pink fairy wings problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy

Dean could still fucking hear his brother laughing in the motel room. He’s shut up in the bathroom and the space is feeling a lot more cramped and tiny due to his very unwelcome new appendages.

“I swear to God Sammy I am going to fucking kill you if you don’t stop laughing.”

A laugh tapers off breathlessly. “I’m sorry - ” , no he’s fucking not, “- I’m so sorry I swear I’m going to check a few things and I’ll leave you alone and go research at a diner or something ok. Are you sure you’ll be fine alone?”

Dean scowls at the reflection he can’t avoid in the bathroom mirror. “Fucking peachy.”

He’s naked from the waist up. Sure, he’s maybe put on a little pudge around his waist - he’s never going to give up pie - but he’s muscular and stocky, broad, tanned - perfectly fucking masculine thank you very much.

The sparkly pink fucking fairy wings on his back kind of ruin that.

Dean tries to turn around and catches the tip of one of his thin wings against a towel rack, cursing and tugging back around. Leaning against the door with his shoulder blades, back arching out from it, he scrubs a hand over his face and looks at himself again.

They’re kind of like butterfly wings but the edges aren’t smooth, they ruffle with curly little frills. The pink is darker around the edges, magenta or some shit, fading to a light kind of pink in the middle. Like a good rare steak. But fucking wings. They shimmer iridescently like oil in sunlight, all fucking sparkly and pink. 

That witch was just dicking with him to give him pink wings, and Dean is going to make sure the bitch pays for it.

After he gets rid of the wings.

Sam’s voice is near to the other side of the door when he says, “Dude we really should call Cas in on this one. He could probably - ”

“No! Hell no. Not happening.“

"Dean he might be able to fix this with his mojo or whatever and spare me a night of research, and you a night of moping.”

“I don’t mope.”

“Whatever. I’m calling Cas.”

Dean gives up ‘assessing his situation’ - hiding, wallowing, moping - to fling open the bathroom door.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“What’s your problem? You know Cas isn’t going to judge you for those, or whatever.”

“I said no.”

Sam rolls his eyes and gives a 'supreme’ bitch face to Dean before he opens his big Sasquatch mouth, “I pray to Castiel -”

His high pitched squawk is satisfying when Dean tackles him to the ground.

Dean doesn’t really give a shit what Cas would or would not think about these wings - Dean refuses to call them his wings. See the thing is, he gives a shit. And he does not need Cas with his big badass black angel wings to come down and help Dean with his little pink fairy wings problem.

Yeah, Dean’s seen Cas’ wings. A few times. Gotten his hands on them and made Cas scream so pretty. They really can’t have sex in motel rooms when they play that game. Cas’ wings are fucking massive, several lengths worth of his body height for each wing span. They’re a deep soot sort of black that sucks in light. They feel like fucking silk under Dean’s hands and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he loves to rile Cas up with them, when they have the space for it. Cas’ whole body shudders and he moans like a porn track any time Dean can get the angel on his knees, can bury his fingers in the feathers and pull.

So no. Cas does not get to see him with these rinky dink pink wings that aren’t even fucking functional. Because yeah, Dean’s tried to at least fly with them. No dice. It felt more like his wings were trying to fly away from him, not with him. Too much muscle and mass, he wasn’t meant to be some winged fairy. Their wing span barely reaches his wrists.

Besides, he’s enough of a fairy without the wings.

Okay maybe that insult still stings a little bit - a lot - and maybe that’s why he doesn’t like that he’s even more of an obvious fairy now. Even though he’s really not. At least he can still kick Sam’s ass. 

It tugs and hurts at the root of his wings when Sam rolls him over onto his back but the wings are sturdier than they look because he doesn’t feel anything tearing, and he gets Sam flipped over again. Somehow they end up with Dean straddling Sam’s back putting him in a headlock while Sam bucks like a goddam bronco and wheezes.

Then Dean hears the tell tale flap of angel wings and sees a blur of tan a few feet away from them.

Still on top of his brother - shirtless, with his pink wings fluttering - Dean looks up at Cas. The angel’s mouth is hanging open a little and his cheeks are about as pink as the middle of Dean’s wings and godfuckingdammit. Cas coughs and gets a hold of himself, squinting at Dean in that way - you know the one - that says 'you’re my little bitch’ and he will never tell anyone but yeah he kind of really likes being Cas’ little bitch.

Oh goddamit he’s still on top of Sam and he’s popping a boner and his wings just started flapping all over the place and Dean has no idea what’s going on. Pushing away from Sam and standing up, stepping back to put a little more distance between him and Cas, Dean crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t care if he looks like a petulant toddler. He’s allowed to sulk. 

Sam stands, pink cheeked and panting a little but he’s cheerful when he says, “Hey Cas, thanks for coming.”

“Of course Sam. I was worried when your prayer cut off so abruptly.”

Dean glares at the both of them. “Ok fine, you’re here, is there anything you can do to get rid of these?”

Cas brushes past Sam and stands in front of him. He reaches two fingers up and touches them to Dean’s forehead. At least he’s not touching the wings. Dean feels the familiar tingle creep of his Grace as he seeps in to diagnose the problem. When Cas pulls back there’s that constipation frown on his face and Dean already knows what he’s going to say.

“I don’t believe I can undo this. Was this a spell?”

Dean snorts. Of course it was a spell. “Yeah tiny little witch barely came up to Sam’s fucking belly button, threw some glitter shit on me and ran.”

Sam is shifting uneasily behind Cas and Dean knows that he feels kind of guilty because the fairy was going for Sam and Dean got in the way.

“I uh, I’ll try and get in touch with Bobby, see if he can help, why don’t I just, go, I’ll go research now.”

Scrabbling with his laptop and a scraggly old book, Sam high tails it out of there leaving Dean feeling unsettled - in oh so right ways - under Cas’ scrutiny.

“So, big bad angel, why can’t you fucking get rid of a pair of fairy wings?”

Cas tips his head to the side and purses his lips. “Removing a spell is like pulling a weed. If I don’t get all the roots it will keep coming back. This one runs deep. I don’t want to hurt you trying to pull it out. It would be best if Sam can find a counterspell.”

Dean throws his hands up and moves past Cas with a rough shove of the shoulder. “Of fucking course.”

When Dean gets to the other side of the room he turns toward Cas again and catches the angel licking his lips and taking a tentative step closer. Cas lifts up one of his hands like he’s reaching for Dean and it makes him frown. But the angel’s got a look on his face like the most innocent wonder and the dirtiest lust. 

Dean swats at his hand when Cas is close enough to touch.

“Come on man, you’re creepin’ me out.”

“May I….”

“What? Touch them? Hell no.”

“They’re very beautiful.”

“Oh my god Cas, they’re pink!”

“The color bothers you?”

Cas lowers his hand and squints like he hadn’t considered that.

“Well yeah.”

Cas is still squinting. “Why?”

“Guys don’t fucking wear pink man, and pink wings are just like, fucking, man you know how many times I’ve been called fairy?”

“Well you clearly aren’t. Even now, those are just add ons. You’re still you. Dean Winchester.”

Dean shrugs him off and turns to see if they have any beer left in the fridge. Or whiskey. God that would be nice.

Cas keeps talking. “Besides, pink used to be considered a very masculine color. The idea of gender specific colors is a social construct that’s purely subjective. I think they suit you.”

Dean finds a beer and swallows most of it in one pull, watching Cas watching him. When he’s finished he sets the bottle down and Cas is crowding in to his space again. The angel doesn’t try to reach around and touch the wings. He tips his head closer and licks up a trickle of beer from Dean’s chin before pressing their mouths together.

Yeah ok a distraction will totally work for Dean right now.

Grabbing Cas’ tie and pulling him closer, Dean deepens the kiss, tilting down and angling his face to get at Cas’ mouth, lick into him. One of Cas’ hands goes to his hip and brings their bodies flush, hips grinding together. The other settles on his waist, curves around.

Dean gets Cas’ hand away from his back with pushing the trench coat off, wrenching buttons open and tearing off his shirt too, pushing him back towards the beds. Cas’ hands go to his pants before he hits the bed and falls, getting them mid thigh and wriggling the rest of the way out as he scoots up on the bed. Dean unbuckles and unbuttons his pants - Cas’ eyes fixated on his hands the whole time - stepping out of them before kneeling up on the bed. 

The wings on his back don’t weight much at all that he can usually just ignore them, but they keep shuddering and reaching out towards Cas, flapping around excitedly like his dick tapping up happy against his belly, and it’s really fucking weird. They don’t weight much but they push a breeze across his heated skin and he can feel the paper crepe thin surface of them brushing against his back. 

Cas reaches up for his face and pulls him out of his distraction, tugging him down for another kiss and Dean straddles his lap happily. Both of them are hard and naked and already panting a little. Dean kind of wants to tell Cas to bring his wings out. To distract him some more. The room is probably too small. He feels too weird and vulnerable, thrown off center of what is admittedly not a very well adjusted world view anyway.

Grasping both their cocks in one hand and rocking his hips, fucking up into his fist alongside Cas, Dean kisses him distractedly. Noses bumping, breath hot against his cheek, stubble rasping over his lips, he writhes and grinds down against Cas. Strong arms circle his waist, pulling him closer as Cas bucks up off the bed hard enough the whole damn thing starts bouncing. 

Dean feels him squeezing into the soft of his hips and dipping down to his ass, and maybe he gets a little too excited, maybe he loves Cas’ hands on him anywhere - everywhere - a little too much - cause he’s squirming all round in Cas’ hold when fingers brush the base of his wings and it’s just too goddam good.

It’s like finally scratching an itch you’ve been avoiding, like teasing the edge up on a scab you’re about to pull off, like pulling stitches out.

“Fuck, Cas, just fucking touch them.”

“You want me to?”

“No. Yes. Fuck.”

Cas has pulled back, stupid big blue eyes looking all concerned as he settles beneath Dean and trails his hands lightly at the base of Dean’s wings, fingertips ghosting up the bottom fringe of them. It makes his whole body shudder and his cock twitches in his hand. He doesn’t want to want this, but he really wants this. 

When Dean whimpers and starts to pull away, Cas squints at him and grips on to his waist. 

“Do you want me to take care of you Dean?”

“God, yes, please.”

Cas nods once, bats his hand away from both their cocks, surges up and flips Dean over on the bed. His instinct is to kick out, but yeah, struggling just kind of makes it more fun. When he feels like he’s not responsible for it. It’s a little - a lot - easier to let go. Cas gets him on his knees and presses a preternaturally strong hand between his shoulder blades smashing his face into the sheets.

“Be a good boy.”

Gripping fistfuls of the sheets in his hands, Dean’s whole body is tense as he struggles to calm himself down. Because he really, really wants to be a good boy. Cas always gives him the best rewards for being a good boy. 

Fingers trace down the curve of his spine, in between the base of the wings that run from under his shoulder blades to the - not so - small dip of his waist. They’re ridiculously impractical things. Cas brushes down between the length of them and swirls his fingers beneath them, swooping across Dean’s lower back. Palms spread, he pushes his hands up Dean’s side, thumb tracing close to his wings again but not, quite, there. 

Fuck wing tease. That’s what the little shit is doing. And he keeps. Fucking. Doing. It. Running his hands every where on Dean’s back that is not these goddam pink fairy wings. Dean’s started sweating and trembling, his cock aching hard and his balls drawn up tight, face pressed to the bed and toes curling in the sheets trying to stay still. 

The more Cas touches everywhere near the new wings, the more Dean realizes how much he wants Cas to touch those wings. With his hands. With his tongue. With his own wings. Fuck that’d be hot. 

“Such a good boy.”

Cas finally places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, curling his fingers and pressing down with his palms, dragging them till the heel of his hand bumps the top of where the wings sink in to his back, drags all down his spine pressing against the new joints - muscles, fucking, whatever is back there - and Dean scrabbles on the bed pushing his ass back higher without even realizing he’s begging Cas near incoherently. 

Deft fingers knead against where the wings meet his back, turning him in to a puddle, then start fanning up along the ridge of the wings and petting across the thin surface of them. Holy shit if Cas keeps it up Dean might just - embarrassingly - cream the bed sheets. 

“Fuck, Cas, please, come on, pleaseplease…”

“What is it you want Dean?”

Cas is rhythmically tugging at the top of one wing and Dean is almost sobbing. 

“Fucking, harder, shit, fuckmealready, pleasejustpullthem.”

Cas takes his hands off Dean’s wings, gives a sharp slap to his ass that brings him back at least a little. Hands spread his legs even further and there’s a filthy wet spitting noise, fingers circling his hole, two pressing in right away and yeah, fucking, if he could just have something there and hands on the wings Dean would be golden. Dean would pass out hard enough he could just skip a day of this craziness. Dean would be too fucked out to give a damn. 

But Cas just swirls his fingers around, crooking them down and pressing them deep, holding them there. He gets one hand on the top of a wing and tugs - hard. Dean’s biting his lip so hard he tastes copper in his mouth. 

“I know the room is small, but I want to do something with you Dean.”

“Anything, fuck, just - “

“All right, come here.”

Hands tug on his hips, pulling him up to kneeling, spin him around. 

Cas looks fucking wrecked. His face is flushed pink and his mouth is hanging open. Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders, climbing on to his lap. 

“Can you - ah - lube?”

“Shit, uh, duffel.”

Cas kisses him on the nose and Dean’s not sure if that was on purpose or if he missed, before twisting around and crawling to the edge of the bed. Dean stops to catch his breath, panting, hand on his cock automatic as he appreciates the curve of Cas’ taut ass. The angel is doing the most human of things, stretching off the side of the bed to reach what he wants without actually getting off the bed. Half hanging - grunting - he finally pulls Dean’s bag close and rummages through it. 

Dean follows his fucking movements like a puppy waiting for a treat, and yeah he might actually be drooling a little bit too. He keeps trying to climb back in to Cas lap, but Cas pushes past him, sitting up by the headboard, legs extended in front of him. Finally he pats his lap and Dean climbs on while he slicks up his cock. Cas holds it steady for him as Dean sinks down, that glorious full stretch and all he needs now are Cas’ hands on his wings. 

Instead, Cas holds him steady, shifts, closes his eyes for a brief moment before there’s a charge in the air and Dean’s ears pop as massive black wings materialize. They knock a lamp off the table and bang against the walls before curling around to wrap Dean up. 

Cas holds on to Dean’s hips and pulls him up. Dean feels Cas’ wings brushing against his bare shoulders, against the pink wings on his back, against his legs. He drops down on Cas’ cock and grinds his hips in erratic circles. Cas’ wings are huge and rustle as he tucks them around the two of them, making a little cocoon. 

The angel has had his wings a whole lot longer and he has really, really good control of them. Like an extra pair of hands - which is all kinds of hot. Dean can hear the tops of them bumping the ceiling and the bed is seriously dipping with the added weight. But the soft feathers of his wings brush against Dean’s wings and he has to bite his lip and try really, really hard not to come right them. 

In a manner of seconds it gets hot as a sauna in their little wing cocoon, breath panting out and skin sticky with sweat, bodies sliding slick with it. Cas’ wings surround him, brushing everywhere, and Dean’s own wings are going fucking crazy. They keep jerking back and spreading, brushing up against Cas’ wings. He gets his wings pushed back till he starts to feel the feathers of Cas’ parting, getting all tangled up. 

Cas’ fingers are gripping hard on his hips, face fallen forward against Dean’s chest and mouth latched on to his skin, to his nipples, his collarbone. Dean finally gets with the program, giving up and letting the wings do whatever the fuck they want, rising up on his knees and fucking himself down on Cas with fervent hungry need. Holy shit but it’s too much at once and if Cas keeps making it feel this good Dean is not going to want to get rid of the wings.

Strong black wings curve out and press in, tips of those wings pressing in to the dip of Dean’s spine and playing along the edge of his fairy wings. Sending skittering jitters under his skin, he almost feels like he’s having a seizure cause he can’t keep still and he can’t keep up the rhythm, just flailing on Cas’ lap and moaning - screaming, begging - until Cas’ hand wraps around his cock and show’s over. Dean comes so hard he blacks out, wings violently thrashing, collapsing on Cas’ chest. 

When he comes back to, his whole body trembling finely with the exertion, they’re both sticky and sweaty and Dean is still wrapped up in those powerful black wings that brush up and down his whole body gently. 

“Fuck.”

Cas nuzzles against his neck and pecks at his lips.

“Ok I gotta get rid of these or I’m just gonna wanna do this twenty four seven.”

“I meant what I said, they look very fetching on you.”

“You got a thing for wings Cas?”

If he weren’t already pink from exertion Dean could guess he might be blushing. 

“I hadn’t thought so. These are a far cry from angel’s wings.”

Dean doesn’t take that as an insult, it wasn’t meant to be and he’s too tired anyway. “Yeah. But I like rubbing wings with you babe.”

“Perhaps we could find a better location and let Sam work on finding that counter spell.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sliding his body along Cas, hands roaming up the angel’s chest and perching on his shoulders, teeth nipping at his ear and kissing down his jaw again, Dean kind of doesn’t want to leave the safe little cocoon of their wings. 

The illusion is ruined when he bites hard against that spot under Cas’ jaw that he knows drives Cas wild and he hears those impressive wings snapping out - then drywall cracking and a chair going skittering across the floor. 

“Shit.”


End file.
